Open Your Eyes
by Siren of the Moon
Summary: Have you ever wondered what it would be like to die? Is there something out there, something new for you when your heart stops and the life that you had slips away? Or maybe there is nothing at all. Does anyone really know? I can hear you scoffing. Of course no one knows. Well, here's some news for you. I know. Me. I know exactly what happens, when it happens and how it happens.
1. Funny, Isn't It?

**~ Funny, isn't it? ~**

* * *

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to die? Is there something out there, something new for you when your heart stops and the life that you had slips away? Or maybe there is nothing at all. Maybe, once your heart has stopped, there is nothing but the dark and the cold like when you close your eyes to fall asleep. Does anyone really know? I can hear you scoffing. Of course no one knows.

Well, here's some news for you. I know. Me. I know exactly what happens, when it happens and how it happens.

I can see you rolling your eyes. You must think I'm not quite right in the head, at this point. I suppose, in some ways, I do have a few screws loose. I suppose that's what happens when you get your DNA infused with some rare animal that's on the verge of extinction. It must change you somehow and I don't just mean physically.

Anyway, back to the whole 'what happens when we die?' thing. I've heard the theories. Maybe we get reincarnated or maybe we go to that place in the sky called 'heaven' or down into the burning pits in the earth called 'hell'. Or maybe, as I've previously said, there's nothing. Just the darkness. No 'light at the end of the tunnel'. No 'golden gates'. Just. Darkness.

I know what happens. But I'm not going to share it with you.

Don't give me that face! I'm not allowed to share something like this with you. At least, I don't think I am. Every time I want to mention it, something stops me. My throat closes up and I can't speak. So, yeah. No info on dying for you.

It's funny, isn't it? The secret of what happens after we die is being kept from the world by me. I'm only seventeen. You'd think the person who would know would be some old dude who has had like, ten heart attacks and flat lined each time. Heh. Funny how the world works.

Then again, perhaps I shouldn't be surprised. I mean, I'm not exactly normal and I don't mean that I'm just weird because I like dipping chicken nuggets into strawberry milkshake when I run out of barbecue sauce. No, I mean I'm physically not normal. If you were to examine my DNA, you wouldn't just find the strands that make us human but you'd also find animal DNA. Yeah. Go figure.

I wasn't born like this. Believe me. I was normal (well, besides the whole chicken nuggets and milkshake thing). Then came Deep Blue and the aliens. Mew Mew Cafe and cake. Shirogane Ryou and Akasaka Keiichiro. And, of course, Masha and the girls.

You don't know about this, of course. No one does. I doubt anyone remembers the damage caused by the aliens. Just a distant memory. That was Shirogane Ryou and Akasaka Keiichiro, tampering and fiddling around after each battle, altering everyone's minds. Creepy, right? Still, it was better for the human race that way. They couldn't handle something so colossal. Even I still struggle sometimes and I've lived with this for five years now.

Where am I going with this, you ask? I bet you're also wondering who the hell I am too. Well, my name is Momomiya Ichigo. I'm seventeen years old. I'm a Mew Mew, a defender of the Earth and I know the secret of death.

Heh. Now you're listening to me.


	2. Red Hair Brown Eyes

**~ Red Hair. Brown Eyes. ~**

* * *

_I guess you're paying attention to me, now. That's funny. Not many people want to listen to a seventeen year old. Anyway, you're not going to be listening to me telling you about my story. I'll leave you to read about it, instead. I'll be back, I promise. Enjoy._

* * *

It was deep in the middle of winter. Snowflakes drifted gently down from the dark night sky above where the stars glittered like diamonds. A thin white blanket was gathering on the streets of Tokyo, footprints being left behind with every step that was taken by shoppers that rushed to get home, bags hanging off practically every limb. Winter was wonderful for those who had the promise of hot chocolate and presents, of happy films on the television and the warmth of a fire or even the comfort of a hug from loved ones.

A mumbled apology slipped from red lips as two bodies collided but the hooded figure continued on. Snowflakes found their way into long strands of crimson hair that caressed the curve of pale cheeks. The curves of the body indicated that the figure was evidently a young woman, long legs hidden by a pair of dark jeans, feet tucked warmly into a pair of black boots that had a fur lining. Slim and slender hands were stuffed deep inside the pockets of the hooded jacket, trying to shield them from the bitter cold.

She walked at a slow pace, in no apparent hurry to get home and out of the cold. As she turned into more streets, the number of streetlights lessened and soon, she was walking in darkness. Eventually, she started to pass by one of the local parks, the large iron gates to the entrance locked for the night and she knew that the place that she was searching for was close by.

A few more streets and she was there, standing in front of a building that was as familiar to her as the colour of her hair. In the darkness, it almost looked intimidating as it loomed above her. Almost.

Her lips adopted a smirk as she approached the very pink structure that was covered in little pink hearts. It had been a long time since she'd been near the place, having left after the battle with Deep Blue and the aliens. She wondered, vaguely, if the place was still open.

She reached the two, varnished oak doors that were the entrance to the cafe. She knew why she was here but now that she was, she wasn't sure if they'd even be here. It had been five years already and the Mew Project had ended. They had no reason to be here. She took a deep breath and raised her hand, curling her long fingers inwards to form a fist.

* * *

The bright white glow of several computer screens lit up a male face, ocean blue eyes focused on various documents and strings of numbers that appeared to make sense only to him. His platinum blond hair was still wet from the shower he had taken not too long ago, drops of water dripping off the end of the long strands and onto the simple black t-shirt he wore over his muscular frame. His eyebrows were slanted downwards in a deep frown of concentration.

He wasn't by any means an old man, his young features reflecting his age to be around early to mid twenties and he was tall with strong legs underneath dark jeans and a muscular torso. Around his neck, he wore a black choker concealing the mark that made him genetically different to every other human out there.

He sighed and leaned back in his chair, his large but slender hands slipping from the mouse and keyboard to clasp behind his head. He was tired and it was getting late. He figured that, for the sake of his mind, he'd leave his science research for the night and head on up to bed after making himself a cup of tea and stealing a few biscuits from the cafe kitchen above him.

His chair scraped against the concrete ground as he moved back, padding across the room to the stairs in bare feet. He made a mental note to find some way to heat the basement room now that they were in the heart of winter as the ground was freezing under his feet. Then again, he probably should've put some shoes or slippers on after his shower.

He shut the door behind him as he reached the cafe above, shutting out the cold of the basement. It was much warmer above ground, the copper pipes underneath the floorboards keeping upstairs nice and warm for its only resident. He made his way over to the kitchen, flicking on the kettle as he passed it on the way to the cupboard where he just knew the biscuits were kept.

Retrieving a packet of chocolate cookies, he leaned against a counter top and as he enjoyed his first cookie, his thoughts turned to a young red head. It had been at least five years since the girl had worked in the sickeningly sweet pink cafe and had been at least three since he'd seen her at all. She was thirteen when she quit and left. She'd be seventeen now. Huh. How time flies.

As the kettle began to simmer down from its boil, he turned to a second cupboard and took out a simple china tea cup and a saucer and then his hand searched for the box of his favourite tea. He frowned when he didn't grasp it instantly and had to reach further back, knocking against other boxes. Deciding to try his luck, he pulled out a box and looked at the label that was printed on the front.

Rose hip tea.

His eyes widened slightly. He didn't realise that they'd had any of this particular tea left. After all, it had been the one that she would drink. It was the only tea that she would drink. He remembered its sweet smell and the pink-red colour it turned the water in a cup. Perhaps that was the reason that she would drink the stuff. Pink and red had been her two favourite colours after all.

He sighed, shaking his head and placed the box on the counter. Even though she was gone, there were still things that reminded him of her, like the tea. Her uniform still hung in the closet, gathering dust and her locker had been left untouched and was probably either empty or there were a few little worthless trinkets left in it. Then there was the smell of strawberries and the sight of the cafe chef's delicious cakes that reminded him of her. There was always something that made him stop for a moment and remember her smiling face and her wide chocolate eyes.

Pouring his tea, he berated himself for being so sentimental. She was gone now. There was no need to think about her at all. He didn't miss her. She'd been a useless worker anyway and had frequently gotten on his nerves.

He set the kettle down and lowered his head. Who was he kidding? He missed the idiot.

He jumped when a knock at the front cafe doors. He rolled his eyes. It was probably someone asking for directions to somewhere or Keiichiro, the cafe chef, coming to collect something that he'd left behind in his old room. With a sigh, he trudged out of the kitchen and across the main dining area to the door. After turning the keys that had been left hanging in the lock, he pulled one of the doors open and his eyes fell on a hooded figure.

"Can I help you?"

A small laugh came from the person that stood before him and he scowled slightly, about to ask them what was so funny when they spoke.

"Why, Ryou..." the voice purred and his eyes widened for the second time that night. "Don't you remember this cat?"

Long fingers came up to grasp the sides of the hood and in one fluid motion, pulled it down. Red hair. Brown eyes. Cheeky smile.

"Ichigo?"


End file.
